


Low mistletoe

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, For once no fluff but sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9459740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: Prompt fill for Promt 1 of the WinterFRE: Is that a mistletoe tucked into your belt??This is Anders Johnson we're talking about, so yes, that is a mistletoe. He's the PR manager of the company, Mitchell the janitor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo .... I normally don't write elaborate sex scenes, this was a challenge to myself. Let me know if you have any concrit :)

Mitchell stood uncomfortably in the corner of what was usually the conference room and now hosted the buffet. He was adjusting his light blue shirt for the umpteenth time. One hand balanced a glass of bubbly wine (he really hoped it wasn’t champagne), with the other he tried to smoothen his hair. It was futile, just as his attempts to make that stupid shirt fit any better than it did. Which was not at all. Too tight around his arms, too loose around his middle. But the only one Annie, his house mate, deemed acceptable for a company Christmas party.

It had been exactly 10 minutes since the last person talked to him. He had a feeling that she had been coming on to him, but only because the guy everyone knew she was sleeping with had been watching. Kindergarden, on reflection, was when most of his peers had been the most mature.

Fuck it. He downed the stupid wine and looked for the exit. He was just the bleeding janitor, he had no clue why they had invited him to the Christmas party in the first place, error or courtesy, or why he had let his house mates bully him into attending. Including George, the receptionist. A.k.a the only person so low in the hierarchy to bother with the janitor but who had some very important family thing to attend to tonight. Traitor.

None of the white collar losers payed attention to him; most didn’t even seem recognize him. He was the janitor, somebody they just ignored in their daily life unless they needed something fixed.

He made his way through the foyer, which was packed. Like the conference room, it had been commandeered for the party, seeing that it was the second biggest room in the building.

Mitchell had spent nearly all day dragging chairs down here. He saw one of the guys who had complained about the inevitable noise sitting down in one of the “useless” chairs, a woman on his lap.

Just when he was at the door, somebody grabbed his arm.

“Going already?”

He knew that seductive voice. And turning around, he was faced with devilish dimples and too much hair to be healthy for Mitchell’s libido. Anders Johnson, the company’s resident playboy.

“I ate and drank on the company’s money,” Mitchell shrugged. “Time to go to the pub and have some real fun.”

“Ouch.” Anders smile broadened despite his attempt to look upset. All he managed was to wrinkle his eyebrows. “I organized this, you know.”

He put his hands on his hips, drawing attention to his middle and the next words slipped out of Mitchell’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Is that a mistletoe tucked into your belt?”

“Why yes, it is.” Really, those dimples. And the twinkle in the eye. And that voice. Illegal.

When Mitchell didn’t reply, Anders, that bastard, tilted his pelvis. “You know what that means, right …..”

“I'm not kissing your crotch in public,” Mitchell protested. “Come on, mate, I might just be the janitor but …”

“Well, Mr. Janitor …” Anders drawled, “What about showing me your little janitor cubicle and kissing it there?”

Anders stared boldly at Mitchell, assessing him. By the way that pink tongue licked delicious lips, Mitchell assumed he passed muster.

He could just shake his head, at a loss for a moment.

Was that how the bastard got everyone into bed? But he had to admit, it promised a more interesting evening, and before he could make a conscious decision, he felt his mouth form a grin in response.

The arrogance was as maddening as it was seductive.

He vaguely noticed that some people were looking at them, but he turned around and headed to the small staircase leading tot he basement

Five minutes later and they were in the janitor’s room, small but more than big enough to accommodate them. It contained a small desk and a shelf with paperwork Mitchell rarely bothered with, and a door leading to the supply room.

The soft yellow light from the bulb hanging on ceiling painted Anders Johnson almost angelic, accentuating every wave in his blonde hair, and softening the lines of smirk.

Mitchell took only a short moment to appreciate the sight, the inviting look on Anders face, then he pressed Anders to the wall, right next to the brooms, his body flush against Anders’. Anders was stocky, his tummy just a little bit soft, just enough for Mitchell’s hip bones to dig into, just enough to make him gasp when he looked down into Anders sparkling blue eyes. Anders angled his face, his hands around Mitchell’s neck and he dipped his face down, pressing his lips upon Anders’, demanding entrance.

Anders opened up immediately, his mouth warm and inviting, their tongues dancing rather than battling. Their lips moved against each other, rough and full of intent. Anders tasted of vodka and orange juice, and of the ham sandwiches served at the party, but there was the underlying flavour of Anders, more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be. Mitchell’s heart rate was climbing alarmingly from just the kiss.

Finally Anders pulled back with a shuddering grin.

“You’re good,” he breathed.

Mitchell gave him a small smile, before trailing hot kisses along Anders’ jaw and neck, working his hands down on Anders’ sides as he gracefully lowered himself to the floor, keeping eye contact.

He had to keep in mind that Anders had a reputation as a bastard who would do anything to get somebody into his bed. This was not healthy for Mitchell. He needed to get a grip on himself.

He was kneeling on the rough floor, watching Anders try to dig his fingers into the smooth concrete wall.

His gaze raked Anders’ body, before he poked the bulge in Anders’ pants.

“That’s where you want your kiss, is it?”

“Obviously,” Anders whispered throatily.

With a sly gaze up, Mitchell bend forward and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Anders’ jeans. Then he straightened.

“There we go, I’ve done my duty.”

Anders looked at him, eyes unfocused. Then his mouth fell open.

“Now, hang on … you can’t just …” A slight shift in the curve of Anders mouth as his eyes roved Mitchell’s body indicated that he was regaining his balance. His hand ghosted over the bulge in Mitchell’s cross. “You want this as much as me, come on, you enjoy this!”

“Oh, I do,” Mitchell agreed airily, keeping a small distance between them. “But I get the impression that you’re not one to reciprocate, so …”

“I am!” Anders protested, closing the space between them, his soft hand on Mitchell’s jaw. He practically breathed the next word into Mitchell’s mouth. “I promise, I never left anyone unsatisfied.”

“You sure about that?”

Mitchell’s voice came out husky; he felt his resolve melting.

Anders’ erection was pressing against Mitchell’s thigh, Anders body was flush and warm against his and the blue eyes and the dimples didn’t help.

“100 percent,” Anders repeated. A hint of amusement tinged his voice. “How could I have laid everyone in my department otherwise? They are all close, tales of bad lovers get out.”

It shouldn’t be sexy to hear the man brag about his success, but Mitchell was electrified. His hands were drawn to Anders’ body by an invisible force. His fingers caught in the hem of Anders’ shirt and he pushed the flimsy fabric up, Anders’ skin warm and soft under his fingertips and the contact sent sparks through Mitchell’s arms.

Mitchell let his hands slide to Anders’ lower back, dipping his fingertips into Anders’ trousers, resting his face in Anders’ gorgeous hair. Hair that smelled of a thousand products Mitchell never bothered with.

Anders’ chuckle vibrated through Mitchell’s body when Anders snuck one hand between them, tugging at something. Mitchell tried to look down, but their chests were too close together for him to see what was going on. Anders’ knuckles brushing against the bulge in Mitchell’s pants sent sparks flying up his spine.

Then he felt something tucked into his trousers.

“Now you’ve got a mistletoe tucked into your pants,” Anders said so smugly, that Mitchell had to laugh. It came out as a moan when Anders let his hands slide over Mitchell’s side, gracefully sinking down onto his knees.

Mitchell was left to stare helplessly, when clever hands did quick work on the zip of his pants.

“Why did you have to wear such skinny jeans,” Anders grumbled, his voice raw as he wrestled to shove Mitchell’s trousers down.

Mitchell cleared his throat, pretending to be not affected, using his own hands to shove his jeans and pants down with practised ease.

Anders hummed in approval, when Mitchell’s erection sprung free.

“Just as gorgeous as I thought it would be,” he mumbled huskily, nosing the length in front of him. The fleeting touch was enough to make Mitchell’s heart hammer in his throat.

“Stop teasing,” he demanded, his voice almost pathetic.

“I’d never.” Anders curled his fingers around the base of Mitchell’s cock and licked a broad strip up.

Mitchell’s hips jerked forward on their own accord at these words. Heat was spreading through his groin. He bit his lips to stifle his outcry when Anders swallowed him without warning, Mitchell’s hands clawing into Anders’ shoulders.

The warm moist heat of Anders’ mouth was incredible, Mitchell had nearly forgotten what a blow job felt like.

Anders was true to his words; there was no teasing, he sucked firmly, his tongue swirling around the head of Mitchell’s cock, teasing the slit and pushing against the sensitive flesh. 

Every part of Mitchell was flooded with delicious, tingly heat. His breath was coming out as harsh pants, echoing through the sparse room.

Just when Mitchell thought he was going to explode any moment, the pleasure in his belly hot and tensing, Anders pulled off with a plop.

“What …” Mitchell steadied himself, leaning heavily against Anders’ shoulders. Anders eyes were dark blue when he looked up at Mitchell’s face.

“Fuck me,” he rasped, just a hint of his arrogance left.

“What?” Mitchell tried to reorient himself. He was still hazy when he grabbed Anders and pulled him up again.

“What?” he repeated.

“I want you to fuck me.” Anders smirked. “Can you do that?”

He pulled a small tub of lube and a condom out of the pocket of his slacks, brandishing them in front of Mitchell’s face.

“Oh … oh yes. Sure.”

Anders let the lube and condom fall on the small desk beside them and dipped his head to lavish his attention on Mitchell’s collarbone. That was not helpful at all. His nerves were on fire.

Mitchell heard himself moan. This would not do. He pushed Anders away and before the other could complain, he began to tear at the buttons of Anders’ shirt.

This was his one chance to fuck Anders Johnson and he would not make it a quick little number with only their pants pushed down. No zipper-fuck. Anders seemed to agree with the sentiment. He pushed Mitchell’s hands away to undress himself more efficiently, and Mitchell followed suit, shedding his clothing at record speed.

Mitchell had to catch his breath when he looked up again after throwing his pants in the general direction of his desk.

Anders was even more gorgeous naked. He had short, sturdy legs, golden skin covered in curly golden hair. His hard length was flushed purple, a bead of liquid forming at the top, and pressed against that soft belly, the belly that was covered in crisp, reddish hair just begging to be touched. And that arse. Mitchell couldn’t keep his eyes off Anders’ round cheeks. He had a feeling Anders presented himself at that angle on purpose, but he wasn’t going to complain.

There was so much naked skin to touch. He reached out, reverent fingers exploring Anders’ beautiful chest, the pink little nipples.

But he could feel Anders getting impatient, his smooth hands were running over Mitchell’s flat, hair-roughened belly, diving down. Mitchell caught them.

“Stop it, unless you want the early bird special.”

Anders took his hands off Mitchell’s body immediately and turned around, wriggling that shapely bum.

“Get on with it then, big boy.”

The blond braced himself against the wall, pressing his bottom against Mitchell’s crotch, his back arched deliciously.

Mitchell took a deep breath and counted to three. He stepped backwards just enough to be able to manoeuvre and let one finger glide between the cheeks of Anders’ arse, teasing the little puckered ring he found.

Anders pushed against him, so Mitchell put a steadying hand on his lower back.

“Easy tiger.”

He removed his hand and grabbed the lube, slicking his finger with shaking hands, before he returned it to Anders’ rim.

It had been too long since he’d done this.

He circled the firm ring of muscle with his slick finger, enjoying the little whining noises Anders made. Before the needy bastard could complain again, Mitchell pushed his finger in to the first knuckle and was rewarded with a low moan. Anders pushed back, swallowing Mitchell to the third digit in one go. He was tight and hot and Mitchell was swiftly regaining a painfully hard erection.

Quickly, he poured more lube over his fingers and added a second. It was hard to be careful, but he couldn’t hurt Anders. As eager as the other seemed, he was tight.

Despite Anders demands to get on with it, Mitchell took his time to work his second finger in, his free hand holding Anders’ hips still. Once he was in, he started scissoring his fingers carefully, before crooking them to look for that rough little nub.

Anders nearly jumped up when he hit it, his breath coming out in harsh pants.

“Get on with it!” he repeated, voice rough. “I want you inside me. Now.”

“Patience,” Mitchell had very little of that left himself. “Going to make it good, all right?”

“Good is you inside me!”

Mitchell chuckled, worming a third finger inside. There was some resistance, Anders was still tight, but the ring of muscles was relaxing. His fingers moved easily now, brushing Anders’ sweet spot every now and then, eliciting moans and whines. He forced himself to focus not on the delicious sounds Anders made, not on the anticipation of sinking into that tight heat, not on the way sweat was glistening on Anders’ back. He focused on gauging Anders’ readiness.

A sentiment that was not appreciated by the subject of his concern. Anders rocked himself on Mitchell’s fingers, grumbling. When Anders exclaimed:

“What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Mitchell judged him ready. He patted Anders’ rear as he pulled his fingers out obediently and reached for the condom.

Anders craned his head, observing Mitchell’s efforts to roll the condom on. A smile was playing around Anders’ mouth, looking almost serene in his anticipation.

By the time Mitchell allowed himself to line his cock up to Anders’ entrance, some of the urgency was gone. There was little resistance as he sank into that silky heat, his fingers gripping Anders’ hips.

Taking his time, he enjoyed the feeling of Anders opening up, of breaching the beautiful body beneath him. Anders kept still, his hands clawing at the wall.

Mitchell swivelled his hips gently, slowly sinking deeper and deeper.

“All right?” Mitchell gasped when he was fully sheathed, bent over Anders’ shorter body to place a kiss between Anders’ shoulder.

“Yeah …. move. Please.”

Mitchell smiled against the sweaty skin of Anders’ neck.

“Your wish is my command.”

He straightened as he pulled back again, slowly. Rolling his hips against Anders, he set a slow pace, enjoying the feeling of sliding in and out, feeling the warm skin beneath him. Soon he felt the heat gathering in his stomach again, demanding more.

And Anders rocked back impatiently, urging him on.

“Come on!” Anders wriggled, looking back at Mitchell, a faint sheen of sweat covering his face. “Faster.”

Mitchell paused a moment, looking straight into Anders’ darkened eyes, then he slammed back in.

Anders’ head dropped back down and he yelled out “yes!”

Encouraged, Mitchell was setting a bruising pace, thrusting into Anders almost frantically now and it still didn’t feel like it was enough.

Anders tried to take one hand off the wall to take himself in hand. When Mitchell thrust into him, they nearly tumbled into the wall, Anders couldn’t brace himself with only one arm.

Mitchell paused, panting heavily.

“Hand. Wall. Now,” he ground out and Anders complied instantly, probably didn’t need to be prompted.

Mitchell curled his own hand around Anders’ hot, thick cock. It felt heavy in his hand, heavy and right. He pumped it lightly and Anders’ sighed in relief.

Mitchell angled his hips, thrusting up at an unforgiving pace, his grip firm on Anders’ cock. Anders’ whiny moans of “oh yea” told him he was brushing the right spot over and over now, spurring him on.

After one particular hard thrust which nearly send Anders into the wall, Anders yelled. Thick spurts of come splattered over Mitchell’s hand.

He took a deep breath. “I keep going, all right? Nearly there.”

Anders just pushed back, weakly, but Mitchell took it as all the encouragement he needed to thrust into Anders’ pliant body again, until he felt the pulsing at the base of his cock, and with a hoarse shout he emptied himself into Anders, the force of his orgasm blurring his sight, as he held onto Anders like a drowning man.

He planted his own hand on the wall, steadying himself, still bent over Anders, who was quivering now. With the other hand, he deftly grabbed the base of the condom and pulled out of Anders.

He took a small step back, still shaking slightly, to allow Anders to straighten. He heard Anders take a deep breath, before the man turned around, rubbing his hands over his waist.

“Well, that was fun.” Anders smirked at him. “We should do that again sometime.”

Mitchell laughed, breathlessly. It certainly had been fun. More than fun.

But he knew Anders’ reputation as well as anyone else. Apart from a woman named Helen he used to have a loose affair with, he wasn’t known to sleep with anyone twice.

Still, he shrugged and winked at Anders.

“You know where to find me.”

His heart was still beating rapidly, as they dressed again in silence. Anders patted Mitchell’s rear when he left first. Dutiful janitor that he was, Mitchell made sure to first dispose the condom discretely.

***

Mitchell hadn’t told George and Annie about his little adventure, leaving them in the belief that the party had been as miserable as Mitchell had predicted.

Unfortunately, Mitchell had conveniently forgotten that they had headed to the basement together in full sight of a large group of people and that he had reemerged shortly after Anders.

He was busy on Monday morning cleaning up the foyer.

He had come in Saturday afternoon to put all the chairs back and tidy up; an external company was there to help him clean.

They hadn’t done a proper job. The marble floor of the foyer was full of streaks and it looked like somebody had spilled wine over the glass front and that hadn't been cleaned on Saturday.

He had already cleaned the window and was busying himself with the floor now. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw George chatting with a colleague at the reception.

As soon as she was gone, George sidled up to him.

“So I heard something interesting.”

“Oh, did you? What was it? Did they finally catch whoever was stealing your lunch?”

“No.” George scowled. He composed himself quickly though. “No, no. But you didn’t tell us all about Saturday night, did you?”

“It was boring, you’re a traitor, you’re not yet forgiven?”

“Give over.” George grinned slyly. Not a look he should ever attempt. “You pulled!” Then George wrinkled his forehead. “Or rather, you were pulled? By Anders Johnson from PR?”

“Oh, that.” Mitchell shrugged.

“Yes, that!” George put his hands on his hips. “I’m your best mate. I deserve to be informed about such matters by you. Not by Lizzie from accounting.”

“There's someone at the reception,” Mitchell pointed out.

He noticed too late that the person in question was none other than Anders Johnson. He should have recognized that bum.

George flushed furiously as he headed back to his desk. Anders, on the other hand, was all nonchalance. Mitchell heard him talk to George about some very important clients coming later. Then the man sauntered up to Mitchell. No doubt noticing how remarkably ugly Mitchell looked in a blue overall.

“Mr. Mitchell.” Anders’ dimples were particularly deep today.

“Mr. Johnson,” Mitchell replied, as deadpan as he could. Which wasn’t much.

“I expect some guests from Japan today. They could be very crucial partners in our campaign to establish the company on the Japanese market.”

“Good luck?”

Why the fuck was he telling the janitor?

“So I’d appreciate it if the foyer was sparkling by lunch,” Anders continued, his words balanced by the wicked blue gleam in his eyes.

“Sure.” Mitchell gritted his teeth nonetheless. “Anything else you’d like me to do? Roll out the red carpet?”

“I don’t think we need to go that far. But, you know … you could show me the red carpet later, so I can inspect it?”

Mitchell chose to ignore the leering.

“It’s in the basement. Second door to the left. You can’t miss it.”

He could tell that Anders was slightly thrown off by the fact that they actually had a red carpet. He didn’t wait for a response.

“In any case, let me get on with my work now, and maybe I have this place ready for your visitors by noon.”

“I appreciate it.” Anders dropped his voice. “And I might need somebody to hold my hand in the basement.”

He sauntered off and Mitchell was hundred percent certain that he knew how much the way he walked accentuated his bottom.

As soon as Anders was gone, George hurried to him like an excited chicken.

“What was that about?” He demanded.

“Mr. Johnson needs this place clean, so don’t distract me, please. I’ve got work to do.”

But he wasn’t a total bastard and took pity on his best mate. “And he needs somebody to hold his hand later.”

***

Anders came down to the basement, where Mitchell was busy putting away his supplies just after five o’clock. He was strutting as if he owned the place.

“You still owe me a blowjob,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

“I what?”

“You,” Anders stabbed his finger in Mitchell’s chest, “owe me a blowjob. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Mitchell just stood there, a small bottle of bleach in his hand.

“All right?” he ventured. He didn’t think he owed Anders anything, not after he’d done exactly as Anders asked Friday night. But he wasn’t one to argue about propositions by gorgeous men.

Anders seemed intent to hold Mitchell to his promise right there, his eyes flickering to the door.

“So I think you should get on it with.”

But from the floor above there were still the footsteps of people leaving work. And Mitchell knew some people would be working overtime.

He took a step backwards when Anders tried to grab him.

“Look, do you seriously want everyone to talk about your affair with the janitor?”

“Fuck them.” Anders smirked. “But if you’re coy …”

“I am NOT!”

“… my flat is only like 10 minutes from here. Give me your phone.”

Mitchell complied and Anders quickly wrote down his address in the notes. He gave it back with a flourish.

“You’ve got half an hour.” He reached up to press a kiss on Mitchell’s mouth. “I want to feel your eyes on my body again, Mitchell. And I want to feel your mouth.”

When he left, Mitchell was already half hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

*

Forty minutes later Mitchell was on Anders’ bed, his mouth wrapped around Anders’ cock. Anders’ hands were in his hair, and the man mumbled encouragements.

Anders had actually worn a mistletoe in his belt when he opened the door for Mitchell.


End file.
